Her Brandy Alexander
by AoiKuroNekoSan
Summary: Angelina Johnson numbly thought, how in her times of pain, there was one man who went down as easy as a bottle of firewhiskey during the coldest night.


**This is a shortish song fic about Angelina and George, with a hint of Fred as well. I just thought that this song fit the two of them very well, and wanted to try the whole song fic thing. So, I hope you like it.**

_**Brandy Alexander**_**, song by Fiest, not AoiKuroNekoSan. Lyrics in italics **_**Harry Potter**_** books by J.K Rowling, not me.**

She lay face forward on the cold bathroom floor. The feel of the icy tiles on her heated cheeks and pounding head did wonders. Besides, this way she wasn't too far away from the sink or toilet in case her body decided she needed to hack up her guts again. Like right now. Angelina pulled herself over to the nearest basin and retched until her stomach felt numb and her lips burned. After a moment she felt as if it passed, so she wobbly stood, stripped off her stained clothes, rinsing the sour smell from her sore body.

After a couple of minutes under the rushing water she started to feel more energetic again. Ignoring the cymbals crashing in her head she began to hum the song she heard on the radio last night.

"_He's my Brandy Alexander. Always gets me into trouble. But that's another matter. Brandy Alexander._" The pained passion pouring through the words of the song reminded her of the last couple of years of her life. The resemblance was creepily accurate.

The neatly clipped, identical red hair flashed past her in a far off memory. Her eyes widened, and she yelped in surprise as they pulled her into a side hallway, clamping two left hands over her mouth, snaking two right arms around her waist. A cursing Flitch hobbled by, with a bright pink Mrs. Norris, modeling elaborate clown makeup is clutched in his arms. She was a good little girl at that point, and quite put off and confused because of the situation.

'Weasley, Weasley, what have you done this time?" She asked them as released her.

"Nothing whatsoever." Says one.

"What makes you think that?" Asks another.

"Oh, I don't know…" First year Angelina pretends to think, rolling her eyes at the obvious. "Maybe Flitch running down the hall cursing your very existence?" There was a pause.

"Well, that would make it seem like we'd done something." One says thoughtfully, scratching his chin.

"Or Flitch is just off his rocker, insulting two such lovely young boys." The other one pointed out. His brother grinned.

"Quite so, Flitch is bonkers using such vile language to describe innocent children."

"Innocent my arse." Angelina snorted. They looked at her.

"You wouldn't be planning," One started, snaking an arm around her shoulder.

"On turning us in?" The other finished, snaking his arm around her waist. She pushed them off with some difficultly and frowned.

"Of course not. I have a clean record so far, and I don't want that screwed up if I'm going to be trying out for the house team next year. I wouldn't want them accusing me of being part of it accidentally by association." They stared, dumbfounded at her.

"You haven't gotten even…"

"…One teeny detention yet?" They asked together. She shook her head.

"Of course not." She repeated proudly. The two young innocent boys exchanged a mischievous glance.

"Well we can't have that, can we George?"

"No indeed Fred." They grabbed hold of the poor girl on either side and sprinted across the hallway until they ran straight into a shocked looking Flitch.

"We've come to turn ourselves in." One announced.

"Yes indeed. We've come to apologize." Flitch and Angelina stared at the twins with identical dropped jaws.

"You—turn yourselves in—I don't—what?" Flitch spluttered. Angelina nodded, looking at either side of her in confusion.

"Yes, yes. The three of us admit to the beautifying of your pet, and agree to take any consequences this results in." A twin explained brightly.

"The three of us?" Angelina groaned.

"Of course!" They chorused.

Angelina slipped out of the shower, turning the faucets off and drying herself quickly before pulling on some pajamas and slipping into bed. She hadn't thought about that incident for a while. Little Angelina no longer had a clean record after that. The two boys didn't waste any time filling up her record, but that was another matter entirely. The friendship that grew from that memory was a bittersweet cornucopia of craziness that she wouldn't give up for the world.

She switched off the light, images unbidden, swirling around her.

Overgrown, uncombed red hair swam into her mind this time. She tried to push it away, but it only came on stronger accompanied this time by a skeletal torso that used to be well toned, and short arms wrapped around her. Bruised, bloody fingers curled around loose tendrils of her hair as the head of red hair sobbed into her bare chest with the sound of a broken heart echoing beneath every cry.

The same body, with not a freckle of a difference on the outside had embraced her before as well, but that seemed like a lifetime ago. It had taken her so much to make him give up the thought that the identical body had pressed up against hers, but neither of them had been able to forget the heart and mind, not identical whatsoever that had been spilled into hers that long lifetime ago, where laughter was strangely more common then tears.

It had taken plenty of time to convince him, but eventually she held him in her arms. She rested his head against her chest, and after a couple of surprised, suggestive comments, he caught the sound of her frantic heartbeat. Then he understood. He wasn't the only one who'd had his insides ripped out. He wasn't the only one who woke up every night with cold sweat covering his body as he called for someone who would never answer. No, she knew _exactly_ how he felt. But it took her a while to push her way back to his side. He was stubborn, and stupid, and thought that loneliness was the only way to cope. It took him so long to realize they could both use each other's comfort. _Though I'd like to be the girl for him. And cross the sea and land for him. _

Long enough for him to notice how much her face had matured over the years, as the ocean of distance between them dried up. She watched him from afar that entire time. It was partially her fault as well. She never made to sail across those oceans, because, after all, she was his dead twin's ex-lover. She wasn't the right girl for him.

She felt herself drifting off, but her swirling thoughts tethered her to reality.

Still, being alone made everything worse. _On milky skin my tongue is sand until. The ever-distant band begins to play. _She had never been a one-man sort of girl. She knew it wasn't healthy, emotionally and otherwise, but she got a kick out of the adrenaline that rose within her during a good snog. Soon after the war ended, kisses tasted more like sand then milk, kisses from every man but one. It bewildered her in the beginning, but then it became obvious. Of course nothing would taste good, nothing would feel good, unless she was with him. And she was proved right the first time they slouched on the floor, back-to-back, chugging fire whiskey, and laughing hysterically. Because that's when the music started to play again, that's when she began to feel alive for the second time.

Since that prank first year, he had always been one of her best friends, and one of her worst enemies. She was certain he was a right git until he helped her up when she fell off her broom the first, and _last_ time. Pretty soon though, he was back to making funny faces and sticking Droobles in her hair. Both boys seemed to love getting into trouble, but it was the quieter, more reserved one that seemed to relish in the action of dragging her down with them. Why was she the one near them every time a dungbomb exploded, or firework went off? She really had no idea. Maybe that was just their policy. _Though you know what I love most of him._ To them, friends were everything. Friends are there for the best of times, and for the worst of times. If one of them was happy, the rest would feel like they could fly to the moon, but if one of them became depressed, they would all be sitting under a dark rain cloud together. She didn't mind getting in trouble with him any longer though. In fact, when the consequences stopped being detentions, and suddenly became a snuggle in his arms, she almost found herself enjoying the danger.

Years later, their relationship was only slightly changed. His sarcastic comments hurt ten times as much, but his smile was like the sun on her face, and the wind running through her hair all at combined. The things he whispered in her ears made her shiver in delight, but she had battle scars to prove that not everything he said was sweet. _I'm walking on needles and pins._ Sometimes he said things that made her want to stick pins in her ears, but in general she loved the sound of her voice, so a couple of pins and needles every now and then were worth it. _My addiction to the worst of him. _You could say she was completely hooked to even that aspect of his personality, and there was no backing away from this addiction now.

She sat up witha jolt. She had almost been asleep, somewhere between dreaming and musing, but now she was completely awake. Moonlight poured through her open window, nearly blinding her in the darkness. It was nights like these were she missed his body next to hers, and his words of reassurance in her ears the most. The song spun in her head more clearly then ever. _The low moon helps me sing._

_I'm his Brandy Alexander. Always get him into trouble. _And to be honest…she got him into just as much trouble. Her temperament was far from docile, and sometimes others decided this warranted punishment. He was always there to congratulate her for getting into trouble, and to promise he'd share equal punishment no matter whatever they gave her. _I hide that I'm flattered. _She called him stupid, never telling him how gratifying she found his loyalty and praise.

Yes, they both got each other into a far share of trouble, but they would always be there for each other to get themselves back out again. With him live was enjoyable, fiery and sweet all at the same time. _Brandy Alexander. It goes down easy. _It wasn't all fun and games of course, but with a man like George, you could be sure that the pain and sadness would go down easy—easy as a bottle of firewhiskey shared in a time of need.

**Fin. Hope you liked it. Please review and tell me what you thought about it, cause it's my first song fic. Thanks a bunch for reading.**

**AoiKuroNekoSan**


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